


A Page From My Heart:  Classified

by Djedereshotep, Take_Me_To_Asgard



Category: Clint Barton - Fandom, Hawkeye - Fandom, Maria Hill - Fandom, Nick Fury - Fandom, Shield Husbands - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Tony Stark - Fandom
Genre: Agent Badass, Angry Natasha, Angst, Awesome Phil Coulson, BAMF Phil Coulson, Bottom Clint Barton, Breaking and Entering, Bromance, Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship, Clint Barton's life, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint has a potty mouth, Clint keeps a diary, Clint says fuck a lot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Food tons of food, Insecure Clint, M/M, Maria Hill bosses Nick Fury, Multi, Natasha Feels, Nick Fury Feels, Nick Fury Swears, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Phil Needs a Hug, Phil hates breaking rules, Phil keeps a diary, Post Avengers, Talk of Rape, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tony Being Tony, Tony Feels, Top Phil Coulson, it's his favorite word, possible future major character death, pre avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 16,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djedereshotep/pseuds/Djedereshotep, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_Asgard/pseuds/Take_Me_To_Asgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew that Clint Barton and Phil Coulson kept diaries?</p><p>Slowly he slid off the stage and into Agent's lap grinding into him. Clint would damn sure take his money. It's not like he wanted anything else from the man. Not at all. His lips found the older man's ear and he whispered, “You smell delicious...and I'll eat you for breakfast if you get in my way." His breath hot against Agents ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters in Clint's perspective written by me, and chapters in Phil's perspective written by the amazing Djedereshotep. Work in progress.
> 
> Un-beta-ed. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! :)
> 
> Hola everyone! Djedereshotep here We really appreciate your support and we hope you enjoy this work. Please check out our other works and if course ...  
> ★★★★★★★★★★★  
> Kudos&Comments  
> Are ALWAYS welcome!  
> ★★★★★★★★★★★

March 21st, 1997 3:56am

Damn, it's been forever since I've written in this thing. I don't even remember packing it. Maybe Tony slipped it in before I left after my last visit. Whatever. It'll be good to write in from all over the world. Jesus fuck who would have thought I'd be traveling the world? Sure I'm killing assholes, but it's a steady job. Hell who even would have thought that I would make it this far and be sitting on the roof of a warehouse on my eighteenth birthday. Fuck. Isn't that the best fuck you to Barney and Trickshot? Fuckers. I was lucky that Tony found me that night. And that fucking bastard became my best friend. Jesus fuck how'd I get so lucky. Oh fuck me how'd this become my life? Welp gotta go kill a fucking fuck face. 

 

Note: Call Tony later.  
Write more.   
Eat today.

 

\---------

5:16 am

That fucking son of a bitch! He fucking shot me! I dunno who that fucking fucktard suit was but as soon as my leg heals I'm gonna kick his ass. Old bastard. Jesus fuck that hurt! Why the fuck was he even. Who the fuck. Fuck! At least I got away. Barely. And at least I wasn't the only one shot. Got him right through his broad fucking right shoulder. God his shoulders though...they were really nice in that Dolce & Gabbana suit. 

No. Fuck no. Brain you fucking fuckity messy fucker. You will not think of that bastard like that. He fucking shot you! And it fucking hurt!! Douche. You are done.

 

\--------

 

11:37pm

SERIOUSLY BRAIN. Stop thinking about him. He is just some suit who thinks that you are just gum under his shoe. Fucking fuck. I don't even know his name. Agent badass? No. Agent Fuck face. I'd fuck his face. NO. STOP. 

.. 

But that tie though. Shit I need to go to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

March 20th, 1997  
9:00 pm

Standard take down. The perp in question gave signs of oddities. No signs of psychic resonance. Piece of cake, I hope... Or this will give me more paperwork than I already have. 

Note Bene: Have Nick get me a PA

1100pm: All is currently quiet. I don't like this. Amazing. My diary reads like my reports. I really need a hobby. Hoping to shoot some hoops later. 

Note Bene: Get Sitwell a muzzle...he talks to much. Even over the coms. 

March 21st, 1997  
12:42 am  
Noticed activity on the upper docks. One of ours? Can't be. We are all accounted for. Moving in, got the "cargo" for trade. More movement? Shit...I REALLY don't like this. 

4:13 am  
Writing with a wounded shoulder is probably not one of my best ideas...really wish Mei was there. The Op blew up in my face. Who was that kid? He was a damn good shot. Got the feeling he purposefully aimed for a non-lethal. Looked scared. This needs more research. Pain meds kicking in. 

Coulson out.


	3. Chapter 3

March 29th, 1998 12:36pm

Glad my leg is healed just fine. I would of had to kill that bastard if it didn't heal well and I had to go to a hospital. Why can't I stop thinking about Agent Fuck Face?.

Oh well doesn't matter. I got to talk to Tony today, he always makes everything better. Didn't tell him I got shot though. I should really tell him what I do while I'm out 'finding myself'. I'm just glad he understands. Fuck I miss him...it might be time to make another trip.But I gotta be careful of fucking Obie the walrus. That sick fucktard. Hate his fucking guts.

I'm going to save Tony from him one day. I will. I owe him more than a life and I love him to much to let him be killed because of me. I'll steal him away if I have to.

 

\-----

 

11:33pm

Another night another asshole to kill. Another rooftop drill. Gotta focus, write later.

\------

1:58am 

Seriously WHO is that guy? First he shoots me, then he shows up at my next assignment. What in the actual fuck??? Well.. at least I killed the guy first. Maybe the note attached to my arrow calling him a fuck faced loser was a little much and a little immature. But totally worth it. Bastard. 

Fuck yeah. Time to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

March 29th, 1998  
5:32 pm

Weird gut feeling. I haven't seen _Him __in almost a full year. My shoulder reminds me of Him. Especially when it aches...  
My eyes keep vigil. Why? Why should I wonder about some snot-nosed marksman? There was more than fear in those blue eyes. A challenge. A dare, an invitation? _

A damn year. Why are you haunting me? Why should I care? 

_Write more later. Damn paperwork. Missions to do._

_0200 hrs  
I had our target in my sights. I was going to take the shot. Then the target fell dead. I didn't see Him, but I would recognize that arrow anywhere. Correction, snot-nosed marksman with bad grammar. _

Note Bene: becoming more than a coincidence. Research this kid. Maybe a future asset? At least I will e able to keep track of him. I feel funny...I'm just not going to go there. Great. I'm "glaring" at my damn journal. 

_Maybe I'll just keep his note...for possible handwriting analysis. Further identification purposes. Yeah._

_Coulson Out._


	5. Chapter 5

April 16th, 1998 9pm

It's good to be back in France, not that I can understand what the fuck anyone is saying. But I have to admit I'm a little nervous because this mission I've got to go in deeper than I have before. Never thought I'd be using my circus silks like this, but I'm damn sure keeping all the tips I make in this club tonight. I must say I do miss showing off how flexible I am...I know Tony enjoyed it.

Reminder:  
Tell Tony what the fuck it is that you do.  
Get rid of any evidence that I wore tight gold booty shorts after this is over.  
This is all for the biggest payout I've ever had. DON'T CHICKEN OUT.

 

\-----

It had been years since Clint had been on any form of stage. Granted this was far from what he was used to other than private shows for his best friend. But it felt natural to be in the gold spandex shorts that left little to the imagination while moving seductively on stage. The music so loud it made the stage thump. He didn't let that stop him from using the pole better than most of the veteran dancers. Using it for tricks and flips all the while keeping to the sultry beat.

His target right in the front row and tipping him hundreds when Clint ventured close enough to roll around on the stage like he was ready to be fucked hard by the large man. He knew the tips would be good, but Damn. He might even be able to take a break from missions for a while. 

Standing and flipping back over to the pole he continued to show off just how flexible he truly was.

Agent Coulson stood with his six o' clock against the wall. He stared incredulously at the gyrating male in gold booty shorts. Right there. In practically nothing. Cock-seducing SHIELDS target. Figures. 

Phil took a deep breath trying to feel irritated, annoyed, anything to distract him from the heat building in his fitted slacks. He was beautiful. He was in possible severe danger. Damn kid...

Phil sauntered up towards the stage. He took a seat very near to his target. Good thing he did not need to pretend to be interested in the dancer. He watched the short-haired, well-muscled snot-nosed marksman. The one who couldn't spell to save his ass...but could sure dance like it. 

Phil took out a few hundreds. The trick was to upset his target

Clint was feeling pretty fucking confident. He had the target right where he wanted himand he was getting good cash. He was even considering taking up stripping as a hobby. 

And then. No. No, no, no. Why in the fuck was he there? Fucking Hell. There was no way Clint was going to let this bastard take his target. He made a good show of crawling over to the suit and showing off his assets.

Slowly he slid off the stage and into Agent's lap grinding into him. Clint would damn sure take his money. It's not like he wanted anything else from the man. Not at all. His lips found the older man's ear and he whispered, “You smell delicious...and I'll eat you for breakfast if you get in my way." His breath hot against Agents ear.

Maneuvering from Agents lap to the targets he gave a coy smile and truly laid it on thick. Clint knew how to use his body to his advantage and wouldn't hesitate to do so.

Coulson's eyes slid hotly over the expanse of the dancer/marksman's body. The heat reaching a glorified swell against his trouser zipper. Phil kept one hand metaphorically glued to the table. The other rested dangerously on his right thigh. So close he could feel the slight air disturbance teasing the knuckle on his right hand. Phil's heart thudded against his ribcage. 

Time to up the ante. If thats the way the kid wants to play. Then that is how it will be done. Phil relaxed opening his legs just enough to push his pelvis up and forward. Just enough for the cocky little shit to enjoy. 

Phil heard the words. He let a small groan escape towards the other males flesh. Phil stuffed 500.00 and a note folded into the money down the side front of the obnoxiously gold booty shorts. A tiny quirk of his lips, half lidded eyes facing the coying male as he seductively...deliciously slid off if his lap.

Licking his lips he smirked and winked at the suit as he straddled the target. He wouldn't find the note until later. 

After a few minutes Clint was leading the target to a back room. His hips swaying dangerously and still collecting cash from men as he passed their tables. 

\------

2:22am

Fucking hell...I don't think I've ever been in so much pain. The damage is already done though. Not anything that hasn't happened before. Jesus fuck at least the fucker is dead and his slave girls are free. And the three thousand in tips totally made tonight worth it. That and... good God it felt good to be in Agent FF's lap. 

At least Agent tried to warn me. Maybe he cares.

No. Fuck. Brain stop. He'll never go for anyone like me. And I don't want him to. Shit.

I need to fucking sleep.

Reminder:  
Don't tell Tony.  
Take fifteen showers tomorrow.  
Find a way to keep Agent Fuck Face out of mind.

P.S.  
He has amazing handwriting.

\---

Clint tucks the note inside his journal after reading it one last time.

_Not my first rodeo kid, but this one is extremely dangerous. Watch yourself._


	6. Chapter 6

April 17th, 1998  
3:18 am

He got this target too. Found the hit laying on his back. Columbian Necktie. Pants undone, he was out. I usually never cover evidence. But I have to know if this bastard did...anyhow. If I can get a clear DNA sample. Maybe I can figure out who my...the marksman is. Holy Christ. Damn boner. Brb in 15. 

Better, As I was saying. DNA. No conclusive research thus far. This young man is a serious mystery. One I intend to crack wide open. 

Going to head out. Pay a visit to SHIELD Lab. They owe me a favor. 

Gold booty shorts. Dear Lord... He felt amazing. Fit perfectly. Risk, asset, risk, asset. Hell if I know anymore...both? 

Coulson Out. 

April 18th, 1998  
3:01 pm

Clint Barton. Clint. Agent Barton...I like the sound of that. I hope he will. Still can't find much on him, but that is a start. 

Maybe I'll take in a symphony this weekend. Need to get my head on straight....both of them...

Coulson Out.


	7. Chapter 7

April 25th, 1998

Nightmares. I can't get rid of them. I shouldn't have taken that mission. I can still feel his hands on me... but I can also feel Trickshot too. I thought I had a handle on this. Fuck. This is all I've got that I'm good at though. I won't give up on this, it's the only thing keeping me going for Tony. I know what that fucking bald walrus is doing to him and I swear to God I'll k kill him.

Sometimes I just wish that I could save everyone, maybe this is the only way I can. It's how I saved Tony and Barney from Trickshot...but now I can't even save Tony like I want to. Fuck this shit. Fuck it all.

And to top it all off the mother fucking suit is still in my head and I don't know how we end up with the same targets but it's pissing me the fuck off. He doesn't know what the fuck I've done and has no right to call me a kid. I mean sure I'm only nineteen but so what. Why does he make my head and heart hurt at the same time as making my dick hard. I don't want to see him anymore because he confuses my brain and makes me feel stupider than I am. And that's without saying anything to me.

Reminders:  
Stop being a little bitch.  
Stop being suicidal.  
People do need me.  
Tony needs me.  
You're doing this for him.

But does he really need me? Or am I just fooling myself into thinking he does. 

Shut up brain. Goodnight.


	8. Chapter 8

April 26, 1998

Just got back from the Symphony. It was spectacular as always. I do miss the cellos. Such a lovely haunting sound. There was a woman in the cellist section who caught my eye. Quite lovely, slightly bashful. Very endearing. We have a coffee date...and Im nervous. Of all the damn things in the world. Im nervous for a coffee date. 

I'm sitting in front of my laptop doing a background check on her. She hails from Portland, Oregon. Seems meticulously old fashioned despite her younger age. She didn't seem to mind that I work for a secretive organization. I don't know. When you enter SHIELD. Normalcy flies out the window. Hell I need to try. I need to loosen the hold that Barton has on me. I still need to convince him to join SHIELD, that IS the hard part. 

He was...so beautiful...who am I kidding? Im an old man, nothing a sexy thing like Clint Barton would want. Balding, wrinkled. *sigh*. Okay Phil. Suck it up. Your still fit and fast as hell. Phoebe sees something. She's only 26. Maybe I should stop listening to my insecurities. Is it horrible that I love the idea of Phoebe but lust after Barton...

Phillip James Coulson...there is something wrong with you. 

Coulson Out.


	9. Chapter 9

May 1st, 1998 9:30am

 

Haven't had decent sleep in a week. I can't think straight. I called Tony the other day... he sounded.. off. Something is going on and he won't tell me what the fuck it is. I'm worried. 

Fuck I need a vacation. From missions. From life. I can't get out of this funk. I keep dreaming about all the things Trickshot told me... and how he... that doesn't matter anymore. IT SHOULDN'T MATTER ANY FUCKING MORE. FUCK. Why would he do that if he knew Barney was just going to fucking leave me for dead anyways? Because he's a bastard that's why.

Gaaah. Focus on good things Clint. Just focus. What's good? This coffee is good. This cafe looks fucking awesome. The crêpe is good. I need to learn how to make them. Maybe I should quit killing people and just be a chef. Why didn't I do that in the first place? Oh that's right. Barney and Trickshot told me that I wasn't smart enough or good enough to make it. All I'd ever be was a dumb carnie who would die without the circus. Well fuck them too, because I'm doing... Okay without the circus.

Anyways. Back to good things. I'm not dead. That's always good.   
Things I'm not sure are good or not: I haven't seen the suit. Maybe I shouldn't expect to. He is what seems to be a busy man, I guess.Another good thing...I can still feel his hands on me too, I don't think I'll ever forget that feeling. He is fucking sexy as hell. I actually kinda want to see him again.. as long he isn't interrupting another mission.

I should probably finish my crêpe and order another. It really is a fucking good crêpe.

Talk later.


	10. Intermission

  
We just wanted to take time to thank all of those who commented, gave kudos and subscribed to our fic. So far we are really enjoying co-authoring together, mundania occasionally interrupts but we try to continue asap :). If you all have requests for another OTP please let us know in comments! Thank you again!!

  
[ ](http://s69.photobucket.com/albums/i67/Jonashotep/?action=view&current=null_zpsa911c7e9.jpg)   



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil sticks his foot in his mouth...A LOT

 

Agent Coulson spotted Barton at the cafe idly sipping a refill of whatever he seemed to be enjoying. The Barista smiled. She was being flirty. Why not? the Archer was attractive with a nice build. He may even look amazing in his older years, Phil muses. Then shuts his eyes for a moment. 

_He is an asset Phil, nothing more..._

Phil opens his eyes pretending his brain didn't think what it just thought. He waited until Clint was clear of the pretty petite Barista. He walked to his table sure and confident as only a Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D  
Could. 

"Agent Barton. Hmmm has a nice ring to it...I think"

His words were soft, clear and concise his face holding a calm expression. 

Clint tensed up hearing the voice behind him. He was on his third coffee and fourth crêpe. Carefully he slid his journal into his lap and out of sight. “No." He said simply, as he took a bit into his savory crêpe. 

“I am sure I don't have to ask how you know my name, but agent is not and will not be in front of it." He stated looking up at Agent Suit from under his lashes.

After a moment he pouted up at Agent. “Ah, what a disappointment. I thought you were going to come over and ask me on a date." His tone was teasing as he kicked out the chair across from him for the older man to sit.

Coulson took the chair keeping the calm face. Letting the silence stretch for an amazingly annoying amount of time until he finally leaned towards Clint. 

"I dont know, I enjoy our little talks, but truth be told, I would not mind grinding that sweet ass over my desk with the door unlocked."

He's got this. He does stifle his smirk watching as the Barista came up. She smiled at the both of them. 

"You two okay afternoon sir, would you like anything sir?"

Phil smiled kindly up at her. 

"Yes please, a mocha lattè, heavy on the cream. I enjoy cream."

Phil's eyes falling onto Clint on the last word. 

Clint raised a brow and smirked. “If I recall correctly, _this_ would be the first actual conversion we've had Agent..." he was determined to not gawk at the rest of the Agents words. Because God did he want to be bent over the man's deskwith the thrill of being caught by some other uptight suit.

Looking up at the barista he smiled and winked. “I'm alright for now beautiful, thank you." 

He licked his lips and stared at Agent after the barista left. Fuck he wanted to just climb over the table and be on him. Feel his hands on his body again. “This creme might be a little too expensive for your taste." He said leaning across the table. Though he didn't believe his words he knew he sounded confident. 

But deep down in his head all he could think about was how he was just another piece of meat to the agent.

The barista loosened a giggle that she did not mean, red-faced she nodded and skittered away. 

Coulson allowed himself a small smirk while watching Barton. 

"Expense is not really an issue. What you get from joining us is. Look, your good. We appreciate that. I also know that you do not possess a permanant address. The way I see it. It is a win win situation. Full medical, dental, vision and health plus a safe place to park your head. That is, if your not in the mood for my lap on any given day."

Phil sat back in his chair pleased with his delivery. Hoping something would catch. 

“No permanent address is just how I like it." Clint says leaning back in his chair again. His mind slowly processing the words the older man had said.

He really was just a piece of meat to the man. Rolling his eyes and standing up with his journal in hand Clint sighs. 

“My answer is still no. I'm not going to be some cum dump for you and your colleagues. Don't get me wrong I'd totally fuck you, but I'm not just something to spread around like a disease." He said through gritted teeth. 

Clint didn't know where his outburst had come from but he certainly wasn't going to stick around for any backlash. He turned and walked away as fast as he could, and when he rounded and nearest corner he broke into a sprint hating himself.

Phil's heart dropped into his stomach...why? Before he could tell his body what to do he was up. His right hand tentatively gripping Clint's bicep. 

"Clint please, that's not what I intended. I saw an angle and took it. I assumed. Look, for that Im sorry. 

Phil wasn't aware he was barely breathing. Touching Clint was electrifying sending every nerve in his body into an ecstatic overdrive. 

It was like time froze when Clint felt the Agents hand on him. It was the touch that he longed for since the night in the strip club. He didn't turn around to face the Agent though. His heart was racing and he took a deep breath. 

“Don't use my name since I don't even know yours Agent." He murmured looking down at the ground and clenching his journal to his side. He refused to pull away and lose that touch though.

Taking another deep breath he glanced over his shoulder. “And why would you want someone like me in your organization anyways?"

Phil's jaw ticked slightly. He wasn't moving away. Good. This one doesnt play easy. Phil managed to slow his heart rate down if only just to handle the current situation. 

"My name is Philip James Coulson and I see me in you and I see this amazing potential and I worry every damn day your not reporting in or possibly bitching about how you can eat my junior agents for breakfast. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Phil pulled his hand away finally aware of its continued frozen yet happy state on Clints bicep. Phil cleared his throat slightly. His pale purple tie giving off one more quiet sheen in the fading sunlight. His eyes still locked onto Clint's. A moment frozen. Studying the younger mans every feature. The wild animal tic at the edges of Barton's eyes. The coiled muscles ready to strike or run. Instinct making the mans every split second decision. That familiar heat rolling in waves through Phil's abdomen. Once again his pants became embarrassingly uncomfortable. Coulson was going for honesty here, all things considered. He hoped the other wouldn't mention the lack of control between his legs. He moved his hands in a professional manner folding his hands over his groin. 

"Naturally, think about it if you wish." 

Clint turned around to face the man completely now. Shock written across his face at the honesty spilling from the other man's lips. “Well...it's a pleasure to meet you Philip James Coulson." He heard himself say, luckily without any stammering. 

The corner of his mouth twitched just a touch, but whether it was in a smile or a frown Clint couldn't tell. His brain wasn't very fond of communicating his body's actions with him at the moment. “How can you worry about someone you don't know? How can you see me tormenting your junior agents if I've never been in your company?" He was being genuine with his questions. 

He couldn't fathom how a man like Phil could even spare time to even _think_ about him, let alone worry about him. And then he lost the touch on his arm and held back a whimper. His eyes traveled down the expense of Phil's torso, lingering on his tie. “There isn't much to think about Philip. But I'll let you try to talk me into it."

This... _this....them_ just was not happening. Phil's tongue slid slong the seam of his mouth. His lips going dry and his mouth extra wet. A faint tremble in usual sturdy limbs felt traitorous to the all to well known and feared Agent Coulson. This kid wrecked him and he knew it. Felt it to his very core. Phil could laugh it off if it was lust. He could roll with it, but no. Nothing so simple. Phil wanted Clint Barton safe and sound and in his goddamn arms. Show the younger male a reason to let down his guard long enough to actually smile. 

"Im going with my gut Clint. Im going on instinct. I can't let you go... "

Phil cringed inside. It was a kind request. Even a sweet one edged with desperation? 

Clint's eyes snapped up to Phil's face upon hearing the confession. Was it a confession? Whatever it was it wouldn't stop repeating in Clint's head. The look in his eyes almost scared because he wanted to believe those words more than anything.

He didn't know where all of this was coming from. Just a year ago he couldn't stand the thought of seeing the man he knew nothing about. Over the course of those 365 days he had come to hope to see the man. Wished to know more and now he was getting just that. More. 

Again his brain wasn't communicating with him as he stepped into Phil's personal space. A hand wrapping itself in the man's tie all the while his lips found the other pair. It was a chaste kiss, timid and sensual.

When he did realize what he was doing, truth be told he didn't mind. But he pulled his lips away anyways. “Don't let me go then." He murmured into Phil's ear.

Phil's hand went up to grip onto the other's shoulders. His tongue finding the moist seam of Clint's sweet chaste endeavor. 

_what am I doing!!??_

The grip upon Clint's shoulders kneaded the muscular flesh beneath his fingers. The heat already burning through his veins of the passion he wanted to loosen on this other creature. An accidental moan escaped into Clint's mouth. 

The moan he heard from his own throat seemingly bringing him back to reality at the same time the other broke the kiss feathering his ear Phil's hands ran down the length Archer's arms. Phil could barely hear anything but his own heart thudding like a ricochet through his entire body. He ghosted lacing fingers through the other's.  
Swallowing thickly he whispered unsure the other would hear anything. 

"I can't... You'll break my heart..."

 

Clint looked up at Phil surprised and confused. “I don't understand...you can't let me go and I don't want you to, but your telling me no?" His voice was hushed as he rested his forehead on Phil's shoulder.

Was this guy just messing with his head? Or did he really mean what he said? 

“Philip...your confusing be, and I don't like to be confused." He murmured before adding, “Especially when it comes to my heart."

One of Clint's hands was still fisted in the soft purple fabric while the other tightened his laced fingers with the warm hand. 

It had been so long sice he had felt so small, but for him it seemed this man was totally worth it.

Phil sighed heavily leaning his head into the younger's that was leaning on his shoulder. 

"Me either Clint....you scare me. I can't believe I'm saying any of this. I came out here to offer you some opportunities, I know your good.." Phil's hand gently carded up into Clint's hair. "I have no doubt in my mind that you can survive and take care of yourself, I...I just..."

Phil choked back a sob. His mind flooded with all of the Agents he had lost over the years. He didn't understand...PSTD? Maybe...but Phil had heard about people like him. So calm cool and collect. Then one fine day they go postal. Phil took another deep breath. 

"Im a fool. A fool who is going with his gut because he feels like his heart has been dormant for years, until you. Now I don't have a damn clue of how to do whatever this is..." 

Clint closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to Phil's neck as he listened. “Why don't you just take me home with you like I'm a lost puppy? I'll have a place to think and you'll know I'm safe..." He whispered lightly tugging on the silky fabric of the tie.

He didn't know what he was saying, but he knew he meant it. All Phil had to do was say the word. And yeah, maybe it was a rash childish decision, but it felt like the right decision.

“I'm not totally useless. I can cook, and I clean pretty well." He added looking up into Phil's eyes.

Phil was lost in the younger mans eyes. He _needs_ to say no...but he can't

"Jesus Clint..."

Phil tears his eyes away for a moment looking to the side. Each kiss from this dangerous male breathing new life into his body and heart...

"That may not be wise."

Phil stated softly. 

“You strike me as the type to do everything by the book. So why don't you, just this once, break the rules Philip." He murmured brushing his lips along the sweet smelling expanse of neck exposed just above Phil's collar. 

Clint was now committed more than ever to go home with Phil. He knew that if he turned and walked away now that it would break his heart, but maybe it's what was supposed to happen. Maybe his heart was supposed to break. After all he knows how young he is and that normal people his age were dating multiple people and sleeping around and getting their hearts broken plenty of times. 

But that was just it. Clint wasn't a normal nineteen year old. He was an assassin by the time he was fifteen. He had to grow up and be a man by the time he was ten. He was left alone to die at the age of twelve. He is a nineteen year old who knows what he wants, even if he isn't sure how to get it.

“I won't beg you Philip. But I do want you to know that my offer will be open for as long as my heart allows it." He told Phil softly. He untangled himself from the agent and took a few steps back. Clint was prepared to walk away even if it meant breaking his own heart.

Phil had to steady himself once the Archer removed himself from his embrace. Phil felt dizzy and wrecked. His left hand found his keys in his pocket. Fumbling with them, he loosened his house key from it. Looking up at Clint he stared at him for a few long moments. 

"I can not believe I'm doing this. Look, I need to go back to work for a few more hours. Provided nothing occurs, you will see me later. That's my house key. I will text you my address. Sound good?"

Clint stood starting at his agent stunned. He hadn't expected for Phil to actually agree. His heart was racing in his chest. 

Slowly he reached his hand out and took the key from the other man. A smile slowly creeping onto his face. “Really?" Part of him hated just how hopeful he sounded, but the other part of him just didn't give a fuck about the emotion he was showing.

Stepping into Phil's space again he softly kissed his cheek and whispered his number into his ear. “I'll be there." He murmured with a smile, his lips brushing against Phil's ear. 

With that he backed away again, this time grinning fully. Before turning around completely he winked. “See you later Philip." 

 

May 1st, 1998

Jesus....I did it. I invited him in. Phoebe....Christ. She is a wonderful girl, beautiful, smart the works. Just...no magic. No racing heart, no Sahara mouth or dizzy spells. So is she safer? Probably. This kid is so dangerous. So sure of what he wants even if he seems insecure about getting it. 

I GAVE HIM MY DAMN KEY!!!! 

Philip. Wtf were you thinking? 

I wasn't. Wasn't thinking at all. There in lies the problem. Can I even emotionally invest in this kid? Probably not. Will he break my heart. Probably. Phoebe is kind, belongs to a book club and gives to charity. She practices her cello almost 16 hours a day. Sweet, kind ...normal Phoebe. Then there is this snot-nosed self-made assassin kid. The greatest Marksman I have ever seen. Rude, sarcastic, obnoxious, sensual, beautiful Clint Barton. Abnormal with probably enough mental issues to make Dr. Seuss proud. Abnormal is my bread and butter. Clint Barton. My 0-8-4. 

God help me...

Back at S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Hill is eyeing me...here goes nothing...

Agent Maria Hill stood with her hands behind her back watching Phil. 

"Something I can help you with Ma'am?"

Maria smirked slightly. Walking casually over to Agent Coulson. 

"Your rather chipper this early evening. Care to clue me in or is that Classified?"

Phil returned Maria's playful grin. 

"No. It's not classified. I got a puppy."


	12. Chapter 12

May 1st 12:30pm

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! What in the actual fuck did I just do?????? Who fucking cares!! He gave me the key to his house!! Okay, okay. Fucking hell. Fucking fuckity fuck. Stay calm Clint. Stay calm.

But....where did all of that come from? Why did I say all of that? I know I meant it. But where the fuck...I don't even know. Maybe this won't end bad.. hopefully it won't.

Welp, gotta go check out my new resting place.

C.B.

\----------------------

Clint took a deep breath as he stood in front of the door to Phil's apartment. He twisted the key in his hand still unable to believe that he had it. This was a first. He didn't have to break in or pick a lock. He still did that at Tony's just because he could. But this was a completely different thing. 

With another deep breath he turned the lock and opened up the door. It looked cozy, Clint could tell that Phil liked things simple. Simple was good. Clint could do simple. The living room had a plush couch and comfy looking armchair. Bookshelves along one wall nearly overflowing, and a desk piled with paperwork on another wall. That was going to be an annoyance, Clint could already tell.

He walked down the hall finding the bedroom and he just couldn't resist running and jumping on the California king bed. He would have a nice warm bed to sleep in. One where he wouldn't have to wonder what the hell happened on them and if they'd been washed since the last filthy adventure. He took a moment to really enjoy the comfort he got from the scent that filled the sheets. He couldn't describe it in any other way than Phil. He took a deep breath and cuddled into pillows, but only for a moment because be still needed to check out the most important part of the apartment.

The kitchen. And dear Gods did it need some work. Sure it was clean and he had more than one plate, bowl, cup, and set of silverware. But there was only takeout containers in the fridge. This would just not do. He was going to have to go grocery shopping.

\------------

“Clint, I know you don't tell yourself this nearly enough, but you are brilliant! " 

The apartment was filled with smells of homemade pesto and tomato sauces, Italian sausages, and fresh pasta. Clint figured that it had probably been ages since Phil had a home cooked meal and he had picked up more than a few things in his downtime between jobs.

Phil was still white knuckling his steering wheel as he pulled in his driveway. The apartments were nifty. The garage was right underneath the apartment. There was a small lit stairwell leading up to the house. Pictures of Captain America littered the four foot hallway. None of that mattered now as Phil was still in the driver's seat, wringing the leather wheel within Lola. 

"What do you think Lola? Should I even be doing this?"

The old '62 Corvette made a settling sound. 

"Yeah your right. Stop being scared and face this head on."

Phil took a shuddering breath adjusted his tie in the rear view mirror. Reaching up with his right hand he patted the dash. 

"Thanks Lola."

Phil grabbed his briefcase from the passenger side of Lola. Heading up the garage stairs he turned and saluted one of the pictures of Captain America. 

"Captain...wish me luck."

Phil opened the door. He didn't know what to expect. Certainly not the delicious scent of fine Italian cooking that assaulted his olfactory nerves. His eyes widened at the spread on his dinner table. Candles? Phil didn't know he still had those from work. It was a White Elephant gift from Maria at Christmas in 1996. 

"Uhhhh Clint?"

“In the kitchen!" He called out as he put the finishing touches on the homemade three cheese Italian sausage ravioli in tomato and pesto sauce. He had flower dusted over his shirt and in little patches on his face.

He smiled when he saw Phil standing in the entryway of the kitchen. “What? I thought that you could use some, I don't know...real food? What kind of person eats only takeout? I mean Jesus fuck you are so lucky you have a job that requires you to be active." Clint scolded with a smirk. 

“Now, go wash up the food is ready."

Phil's hand subconsciously went to his stomach wondering if he showed signs of his poor diet. "Pinch Me" by Barenaked Ladies was playing on the stereo in the background. Phil had to stop himself from wiping the flour from Clint's face. 

He felt a flush rise from his belly inching up his neck and flooding his face as he stared at Clint's adorable smirk. His peripheral took in the subtle changes of light and color playing off the walls. The windows were open. The faintest scent of nighttime air mingled harmoniously with dinner.

All of it was vibrant. _HE_ was vibrant. Phil felt his heart high five his throat ending up in a knot, he wasn't sure if that was butterflies in his stomach or hunger. He just stood there looking like a shocked bystander that just witnessed a miracle. In a way...he did. Mouth still slightly agape. He couldn't move all his senses was assaulted. All because a snot-nosed Archer made him dinner.

Clint had started putting the finishing touches on the table when he noticed Phil still standing there. 

He walked over to him and smiled sweetly. “Hey, I said go wash up." His voice was soft as he reached out at ran a finger over the purple tie.

He leaned in close letting his lips ghost over Phil's and whispered, “I promise it's not poisoned Philip." With that he teased his tongue over the other man's bottom lip before turning around and going back to fill both plates on the table.

Phil took in a sudden shock of air as he felt the soft warm lips meet his. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily. 

"May not be poisoned. But there was the drug..."

Phil cleared his throat. Opening his eyes. He still watched Clint. The way the younger man moved, how deliberate and detailed he was setting the table. He could get too used to this. 

"Right! Clean up. Be right back."

Phil turned on his heel to head to his restroom. Checking the locked bedroom door on the way. This room was the last thing Clint needed to see. Phil winced. He wondered if he had replaced a few things in the Master Bedroom. Phil was realizing he had far too many embarrassing secrets for someone to live with him. Especially every Monday between eight am and twelve noon. Dammit. Could he do this? 

_Philip Justice James Coulson. Get a grip. He's just a kid...he will tire of you soon enough and move on...but I don't want him too. He is young. Im old. Probably too old. Oh what the hell am I thinking anyways. Just man up Coulson!_

Phil dried his hands on a beige terry cloth hand towel. His thoughts calming his lower extremities. Taking his shoes off he meticulously wiped them from any lingering debris and replaced them in his closet. Taking off his D&G Jacket he left the rest of his suit on. The Lavender tie bringing out the blue of his eyes. 

Phil made it out to the dining room. Still trying to keep his game face on. He graced Clint with a thin lipped smile. One could call it shy or professional.

Clint was already seated when Phil came back. He winked at the man playfully as he poured them both a glass of wine. He didn't care if he wasn't legally old enough to drink yet. There were more than enough times he and Tony got drunk off their assess when they were fourteen.

“I really hope you like this ravioli.I've never made it for anyone other than myself before...well I've never really cooked for anyone before." He tried to keep his usual confidence, but he was a little nervous. 

_What if he doesn't like it? What does it matter? If he doesn't like it he can starve...or I'll just make him something else...no I won't. Oh Jesus fuck, seriously calm your shit Clint._

He raised a brow at the tight lipped smile then just shook his head and cleared his throat. He knew this was too good to be true. It didn't even last a night. Phil was going to ask him to go, but Clint wasn't going to freak about it. Nope, nope, nope. Because he absolutely was not attached to this man.

Not even looking at The dinner as he sat down. He stared him dead in the eyes. 

"Okay...there are some rules. 1. Never under any circumstances go into my new bedroom. You can have the Master Bedroom. Don't even peek. 2. Every monday between 8 am and noon you need to be out of the apartment. Don't ask why. 3. Don't go through any of my stuff without permission. And 4..."

Phil took in a deep breath. 

"We need to cool our jets. Clearly there is chemistry. I am not denying it. But Clint, your so very young and I'm looking for someone interested in the long haul. I don't want to tie you down. Do you understand?"

Phil fell silent. Watching the young man.

Clint sat quietly for a long moment not breaking eye contact. With a sigh he looked down at his food and took a large bite the he sipped his wine. 

“I can understand rules. But it doesn't mean I like them. And in order for you to expect me to follow them I'm going to need more that what you just gave me. You know it's called an explanation. So. I'm going to need more info on rules number one and two." 

With that he downed half of his glass of wine. 

“Rule three is reasonable. As for rule number four I'm not going to promise anything. My body may be that of a nineteen year-old but with all the _shit_ I've been through my mind is at least thirty-four. So don't tell me what I'm too young for and what I'm not ready for."

Clint sat back in his chair and studied Phil's face one more time. With the way this conversation was going he knew he'd be gone before dinner was over.

Phil took a sip of his wine. 

"This looks and smells amazing by the way. I hope I am not messing up a good dinner with this. Okay, explanations. 1 and 2 are too embarrassing and I barely know you fully. Especially for 2. As for 4. I know you've seen some shit. Doesn't make me any less fearful. Does that suffice?"

Phil took a bite of the ravioli Eliciting an enjoyable moan. 

"Oh God...your hired. This is the best."

Phil really was trying to keep this conversation going as diplomatically as possible. Phoebe stuck in the forefront. What the hell was he going to tell her? 

"I do know one thing. Rule 5. I don't condone underage drinking so enjoy that last glass of wine."

“So get to know me. I'll tell you almost anything you need to know." He said with a shrug. “And thanks. But you don't have to pay me to cook for you." He took a small bite of food.

He groaned at Phil's age comment. “Look Philip know matter how much time flies by you'll always be older than me. So if you're going to be fearful of that then whatever this could possibly be will never happen because there will always be that age gap. Why can't there be a bridge that we can meet in the middle of on that?" His frustration on the subject showed in his face.

He frowned at rule number five. “I bought the wine, so it's not going to be my last glass."

Phil took another bite of his food in silence. The "kid" did scare him. His eyes moved downward to look at the plate. 

"I gave you the key and laid down the rules. It is up to you rather you wish to respect it or not. There are naturally consequences for either action"

He didn't look up. He didn't need to. He knew this was a bad idea.

Clint slammed his fork down and stood up. “Philip it's like you're not even trying! I don't have much to give. I don't know much about a lot of things, but I do know that you can't always be in control of everything. It's life it's going to fuck you up and screw you over and it's not always going to be pleasant. But Jesus fuck love a little. You are only as old as you fucking feel. And if you feel old I'm sorry, because you aren't really living." He shouted across the table. 

His hands trembled as they gripped the table. Clint couldn't remember the last time that he had been this angry. There was another feeling there but he didn't know what to call it. But he knew his heart was in Phil's hand and he damn near couldn't breathe.

“You the worst part of this isn't even that this is shit. It's that you aren't being fair to yourself. I know how I feel and I know that you'll find me if you want me." He whispered as he walked toward the door. 

“There are left overs in the fridge. Don't let the milk go bad, I tried not buy too much dairy. Don't eat takeout every fucking night either." His hand was on the door knob ready to walk out. But before he did he whispered, “I'm sorry."

"Clint!"

Phil stood abruptly. How he got to his pristine white door without tripping over his own feet was nothing short of a miracle. Flinging open the door wide in a fit of uncontrollable fear. Phil stood stock still. Staring at the inevitable. 

"CLINT!!!"

\---------------

Worst day of my life, 3am

FUCK. FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK. I ruin everything. I should've known that was too good to be true. I don't deserve someone like him anyway. Trickshot was right... I'd never find someone to love me. Sometimes I wish that Tony wouldn't have saved my life... Jesus fuck.. I'm just a selfish little prick that doesn't deserve anything. I know pray that he doesn't come after me I'm no good for him. This is the same reason that I couldn't and still can't tell Tony that I love him too. 

I'm a murderer. I haven't only killed my heart, no I've moved on to killing others too. Fuck me. 

C.B.


	13. Chapter 13

No answer. Phil heard his own heartbeat. A short gust of chilled air whipped around him. He suddenly stepped inside startled by the cold. Since when was it this cold? Or was it always summer when Clint was near? 

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler echoed softly in the room. One of the two lit candles had snuffed itself out. Phil hated symbology. 

He scoffed at the room. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't really...that was for angst-ridden teens who were devastated every 5 minutes. He wasn't going to let one tear streak down his right cheek or let some impetuous snot-nosed, ill-tempered bratty Marksman affect him. Then again. He wasn't going to be truthful with himself either. 

Phil stubbornly wiped the tear from his right cheek. Blowing out the lone lit candle and turning everything off. He placed the food methodically into their perspective designated Tupperware's and headed to bed. Taking off his tie and throwing it into a shadowed corner Phil gathered his diary and favorite pen. 

Black Abyss, 1998

Mission: Integration of emotions and a young male. Clint F. Barton into my life. A total bust, failure. Going to call off anything with Phoebe. She deserves better. Action proceeding: Feeling sorry for myself. Can't think to write. Why do I even bother? Clint...come back...please?. Feeling lost. 

Coulson out.

\------------------o-------------------

The alarm rang sirens in his ears. Phil reached his alarm with a disgruntled groan, his head still under the pillow. Finally catching the wretched machine he pushed it off the oaken nightstand. Silence. Phil felt his body. He ached like he just did PT. Phil laid there, imagining the ghost of one living laying behind him. He wondered if Clint would be the type to drape various limbs over him and cover hog. A bittersweet smile broke his lips' stoic fast. 

"Clint..."

Phil whispered to an empty room. His own voice startling him a little. 

Usually the prospect of going to work didn't bother him, but now he just wanted to stay on bed. Hoping, wishing each time he awoke that Clint would be there. 

Phil's sense of work ethic didn't allow the luxury. It was probably better this way. 

\--------------------0-------------------

"Good Morning Coulson"

Maria smiled slightly, looking up from a New Agent Intake file. 

"How is the puppy?"

Phil's insides twisted a little. 

"The canine in question went MIA, do you have anything for me ma'am?"

Maria's brow furrowed. 

"No. Sorry to hear."

Phil nodded and headed to his office. 

Maria Hill. One of the youngest and brightest agents to surpass Phil's authority. Not to long ago she called him sir. Phil didn't doubt her skills and abilities one bit. He still thought Fury was sweet on her, but neither let on. 

Phil closed his office door. Quietly moaning at the level of paperwork staring back at him from his simple metal desk. 

A puppy entered his life and breathed vibrancy into his world. Suddenly he felt suffocated. A few deep breaths and a good cup of coffee should do. Phil stepped two steps towards his desk and his world went black.


	14. Chapter 14

Clint sat on the roof top of the motel building. He didn't bother getting a room since he couldn't find his wallet. No doubt he dropped it while he was cooking the previous night. He was cold and hadn't been to sleep.

He didn't know what he was doing anymore. Every time he tried toclose his eyes all he saw was Philip. All he could hear was their argument over and over again. He hated it. He hated himself, but what else was new?

\-----------

May 2nd, 1998 5:30pm

Why did I leave? I didn't even give him a chance to explain. Why did I do that? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but I know that I don't want to lose him. But I can't just go back there...I can't. 

I wonder what he is doing right now... probably working and not thinking about me. Why would he think about me? I'm just a kid to him. Some pain in the ass.. and Jesus fuck that fucking hurts to know. My Heart is still in his fucking kitchen.

What the fuck is wrong with me?! Trickshot really was right.. I'll be nothing to everyone I meet.

I need someone to talk to and Tony isn't answering his phone. I'm fucking worried about him, he hasn't answered the last few times I've called. 

Why can't I get Philip out of my head? I wonder if he ate anything today... shit I need to go get my wallet.

C.B.

\------------

 

Clint didn't know how he ended up back at Phil's house so quickly, but it didn't matter he just need to get his wallet. He knew that Philip would still be at work and he had about two hours to find what he was looking for. 

With a deep breath he turned the lock and walked inside. He could still see remnants of the dinner.. Dishes in the sink pots still on the stove. He almost couldn't breathe because it hurt so much. He came so close to having a home again, but who was he kidding. Clint Barton could never have a place to call home and keep it for forever.

Shaking the self-depreciating thoughts out of his mind for the moment he set out to look for his wallet. It wasn't hard to find, right on the floor next to the sink half lodged under the cupboard. He grabbed it and put it in his back pocket. He leaned against the counter just looking around the kitchen. He didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to. Though who said it had to be right away.

He started cleaning, and once he got started there was no stopping him until he was finished. 

\------

An hour and fifty minutes later the kitchen and living room areas where clean and there was a hearty beef stew made. Clint knew it was enough to feed Phil for at least a week. He didn't want to be there when Phil got home in five minutes, so he took one last look at his handy work and left out of the window.


	15. Chapter 15

Phil awoke in the Hub's infirmary. Nick was staring at him with one eye. It startled Phil. Not one eye, but that stare. 

"Dammit Nick"

Phil rasped groggily. 

Fury raised one orphan eyebrow. 

"Motherfucker don't you dare dammit Nick me. You put a good fuckin' scare in all of us."

Nick Fury stood up coming closer. 

"I don't know whats going on Philip. We had tests run. Your physically well. But I ordered some mandatory R & R. Before you _even_ argue do not forget I said mandatory as in no choice. Got it?"

They stared at one another in a silent , no words needed sort of tête-à-tête. 

Phil finally looked down at his hands guilt flooding the corners of his mind. He never meant to worry anyone. 

"Yes sir."

Nick cocked his head in slight confusion. He expected a witty remark from his best friends' mouth. Not this calm obedient demeanor. 

"Coulson is there something you want to talk about?"

Nick pressed gently. Phil looked back up at Nick. Concern showing in Fury's eye. 

"There is something Nick. I just don't want to talk about it"

Nick nodded his head. His SHIELD issued phone rudely interrupted their conversation. Fury held up one finger to Phil answering. Phil looked back down at his hands. Fisting the scratchy infirmary sheets. Nick's voice was practically inaudible. 

"Okay listen. I need to go. But that R & R is effective immediately. I don't want to see you anywhere around here for any reason. Clear?"

Phil nodded "Crystal, Sir"

"Good."

Phil watched Fury leave. 

Maria looked up at Fury from her standing position. 

"How is he?"

She asked quietly. 

"Ask me later. We have bigger problems."

"Sir?"

"Black Widow just wasted one of our teams. We need to get a handle on this."

Phil furrowed his brows. He heard that. He needed to be there. Black Widow was serious business, then again...orders were orders. 

Useless. Phil laid there. His mind drifted to Clint. It always ended up there. People came and went. Nurses, colleagues, peers. He barely remembered. 

_Clint...where are you? Are you safe?, warm? Do you need me like I need you?_

"Coulson?, hey. Agent"

Maria Hill watched him concerned. 

"There you are. They are getting you discharged from Medical. Strict orders from what I understand. My question is. Do you understand them Coulson?"

Maria asked softly but firmly. Phil stared at her. Reeling in his emotion. Phil nodded obediently. 

"Yes ma'am. I do. Rest and relaxation. Report back after a week or so...but Black Widow...permission to speak out of turn ma'am?"

Maria scowled but her slight grin betrayed her. 

"Permission denied."

Phil cocked a brow. 

"Karma ma'am?"

Maria scoffed. 

"The Hong King Incident has nothing to do with this."

Phil's turn to smirk. It was only half-hearted. 

"If you love him Maria, tell him in case you never get the chance"

Maria's head snapped up looking at Phil incredulously. 

"Phil! I...He can't loose his focus. I, I can't"

Phil stared at his boss. He knew he shook her. Good. 

"Don't make the same mistake I did Maria. Tell him."

Maria inhaled deeply. Her scowl deepening from confusion back to concern. 

"Just...get some rest Coulson."

Maria turned on her heel abruptly and left. Phil stared at the room door. 

\----------------o-------------------

Agent Hill reported to Director Fury as per normal. She lingered longer than she usually would. Her back close to Fury's office door. 

"Something on your mind Hill?"

Maria bit the inside of her cheek. 

"Yes sir. You need to eat."

Fury's eyebrow immediately popped. He sat back in his leather chair. 

"Is that a fuckin' fact Agent?"

Maria was trembling now. What the hell was she doing?!

"Yes sir. And you cuss entirely too much sir. So get your ass out of that chair and follow me, provided you want a home cooked meal."

Maria closed her eyes as she turned to the door. Expecting a tirade, court marshal, a myriad of negative things. 

"Is that an order Hill?"

Her eyes popped open and she turned to look at fury. Hiding the smile beneath her skin begging to break free. 

"Yes sir. It is."

Nick stood up gathering his coat. 

"Well hell, look who's after my job. C'mon. Lets go before I change my mind."

Maria didn't question it. She led the way to her SHIELD suite. 

\---------------o-----------------

Phil made it home tiredly. He half hoped Clint was there. Like clockwork. Phil took off his shoes at the front door and placed his keys in the shell foyer dish on the cherrywood greeting table. Immediately Phil knew something was off. His eyes scanned quickly over the living room, and dining room. A new delicious smell assaulted his senses. A new surge of hope hit his heart . He ran to the kitchen. 

"CLINT?"

No answer. His eyes shutting tightly until opening through force. Phil found the source of the new yummy scent. 

Phil robotically heated up some of the beef stew. Turning on the tv he placed "Robin Hood" in the VCR. 

The dish on the coffee table, the end credits playing softly. Phil had curled up on the couch. Arms tucked between his knees like they were seeking warmth. 

Daily Diary forgotten. Sitting as lonely as its owner upon the coffee table.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took sooo long to get out!! D: School had taken over my life for quite some time. I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes.

Clint had to leave town. He couldn't trust himself to stay away from Philip if he didn't leave. He didn't know where he was going or how long he was going stay away, but he felt that he had to.

He felt empty after leaving Phil's home. He hoped to God that he actually ate. But why should he care, Phil certainly didn't. Clint gave a small self-depreciating laugh at himself, because God he'd never been so terrible and he hated himself for it. 

There was only one place Clint knew to go in times like this. There was always one person who would listen. So he caught the next flight to the place where it all began. Where he first started running.

 

\----------- 

 

It always seemed to be raining in Waverly when Clint showed up. He was starting to think that not only God hated him, but maybe Mother Nature did too. Though Clint learned a long time ago that people who were supposed to love him or care about him wouldn't. It was only when that thought became a little too hard to bare that he ended up in Harling cemetery.

The rain was cold, he really should've brought a jacket, but there was just something about being in the cemetery with the rain on his skin that was comforting. Especially when it came to visiting his mother, he could hardly remember her but after he left the circus he started to visit her. Because even if no one else loved him she always would, right? That's what mothers were supposed to do. At least that's what Clint told himself.

“Mama...I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I thought I finally found my place, but I was so wrong. Mama, how could've I been so wrong?" His voice cracked in the silence of the cemetery. If he cried no one was there to prove it.

Clint lost track of how long he sat beside his mother's headstone, but by the time he left the rain had stopped and once again he had no idea where he was going. 

Just another broken-hearted boy lost to the world with nothing but his bow and arrow with sights that never missed.

Journal long forgottenfor the night.


	17. Chapter 17

Phil awoke. The couch was usually comfortable. Warm. Not this morning. His bones ached with cold. No blanket. Or maybe age? Phil scoffed silently at himself. He slowly arose, the need for caffeine hammering through his head. Phil padded into the kitchen slowly. He didn't even know the time nor did he care. He could tell where the sun hit in through the blinds it was late afternoon. 

"Jesus..."

Phil scrubbed his face then over his head. He felt like a mess. 

"Need coffee."

Phil mumbled to an empty room as he dragged himself into the kitchen... His journal nagging the back of his brain. 

"Shut up...too early"

His own voice startling him slightly. It was raspy, tired sounding. Phil wrestled with his own body for a few moments. Waking his joints up enough to start the coffee. Standing at the kitchen counter he turned. Staring at his journal. Haphazardly laying on the coffee table. He looked away, his eyes flitting back over to the coffee pot, wondering why it wasn't finished yet. 

He had a week. A week of this. A lonely apartment, a slumber party date with his couch and stale air. 

Phil shook his head and turned on the stereo. "Drive" by The Cars was playing. Phil couldn't help his smirk. This little divinatory process he did gave him some form of comfort. Unless it's mocking him. 

"Okay Clint, you win..."

Phil nodded to himself as he poured his coffee. Black. He moved his laptop onto the dining room table and pulled up the flight options. Booking a 2 hour and 23 minute flight from Manhattan, Ny to Waverly, Iowa. He was hoping he was right. He hoped that Clint would go back where he came from. According to the files anyways. 

Downing his first cup of coffee. He began to feel better. 

"I refuse to sit here and wallow.."

Phil muttered to no one there as he began to get ready for his trip. 

"Fury be damned."

Within an hour and a half Phil was ready. Throwing his journal in his laptop bag he made his coffee to go and took one last look at his apartment. He nodded to it and shut the door. The taxi should arrive shortly. No way in hell was he going to leave Lola at some damn airport. That would be sacrilege

\--------LaGuardia Airport ----------  
 _“Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin. Please take your seat and fasten your seat belt. And also make sure your seat back and folding trays are in their full upright position._

_If you are seated next to an emergency exit, please read carefully the special instructions card located by your seat. If you do not wish to perform the functions described in the event of an emergency, please ask a flight attendant to reseat you._

_At this time, we request that all mobile phones, pagers, radios and remote controlled toys be turned off for the full duration of the flight, as these items might interfere with the navigational and communication equipment on this aircraft. We request that all other electronic devices be turned off until we fly above 10,000 feet. We will notify you when it is safe to use such devices._

_We remind you that this is a non-smoking flight. Smoking is prohibited on the entire aircraft, including the lavatories. Tampering with, disabling or destroying the lavatory smoke detectors is prohibited by law._

_If you have any questions about our flight today, please don’t hesitate to ask one of our flight attendants. Thank you.”_

Phil was happy to get first class. He barely listened to the Flight Messages. Placing his carry on in the overhead compartment after taking his journal out along with his favorite pen. He left his inflight tray up using his crossed legs as a sufficient table. 

May 6th, 1998  
LaGuardia Airport. 

So here I go. Chasing a dream, a hope,....possible rejection. Well, I won't know if I don't try right? That's what he accused me of. I think I want to shoot him again...just for that comment. That pissed me off. I can't sit around and do nothing. 

Do I need to pummel it into your head kid? Apparently so. 

My Mission: Get to Waverley, Iowa, bring Clint back. And knock some sense into him. Jesus. What the hell am I going to do for 2 hours and 23 minutes? There is SHIELD Paperwork. But then Hill or Fury would have my ass for working remotely. Maybe I will do it anyways and request another week of, but then there is this Black Widow thing. 

Jesus Clint. I miss you. Half the reason Im going on this silly goose chase is for you. So, dammit kid you better come back with me. 

This is so not like me. Yet it is. He's right. I always play it safe. Okay. I won't shoot him, maybe punch him good though. 

I can see it now, *S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Agent Philip Coulson taken into custody in lieu of a domestic abuse charge...*

Wonderful. He deserves it. He never gave me a chance. Little snot nosed brat. Wow, I'm bitching him out in my journal. Okay. He is young. But clearly has made it on his own. I need to stop nagging so much. Give him some room to prove himself. Maybe get a bigger two bedroom apartment. So we can both have space. Not that I don't want to sleep with him, we should go slow....shit... Will this even work? Fuck if I know. I need a little shut eye. I hate flying. To boring.


	18. Chapter 18

It had been a few hours and it was starting to get dark. Clint figured that he should try to find a place to stay for the night and could come back to visit his ma again tomorrow. He was cold and drenched from the rain, not an unusual site to see in this town. He left the cemetery and started walking down the familiar streets. 

\----

He was four when he and Barney left this place, and although the memories were hazy he still counted them. And he had been here enough since the circus without Barney to know where everything is. 

He knew that the old lady on the corner made the best pies in town and made sure all the little kids had something to eat. The old man three blocks down collected everything from world war two especially Captain America related things. Clint loved that old man, and his wife she would always give Clint extra food. They were his favorites. 

But at the end of the old dirt road was the McOliver farm. Where the couple that seemed so happy with their two little boys had a not so happy ending. Old McOliver beat his beautiful young wife to death with the lamp, and no one knows what happened to the boys. 

Clint let out a deep breath as he made his way down the dirt road. He knew no one lived in the house at the end of it. Who would want to? People thought he and Barney were buried somewhere on the property. He knew that once he was inside he would see all the dusted converted furniture, the old pictures, everything that was left behind that night Barney picked him up and started running.

\-----

The door creeked when he pushed it open. Stale air hit his lungs, but at least he could call this home. Clint let his small duffle bag hit the floor as he shook the rain out of his hair like a wet dog. 

“Home sweet home..." He mumbled fumbling off his shoes. 

Reaching into his bag he pulled out one of his shirts and started dusting things off enough so that he could at least sleep without feeling like something was crawling on him. Tossing the now dirty shirt aside Clint plopped onto the ancient couch, his eyes falling on his bag again with his journal half out. With a groan he got up and snagged journal before getting comfortable again on the couch. He would write again in the morning, he couldn't muster up the brain power right now.

\-----

Clint stretched out on the couch and yawned. The sun was shining in his face through a crack in the dingy curtains. “Stupid sun..." He mumbled sleepily. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to do anything. But he made himself sit up and write because if he didn't do it now he wouldn't do it later.

May 6th 1998

I'm tired of running. I'm tired of everything. Just plain fucking tired. I need to write to Tony again, see if he made it to school. Or maybe he forgot about me too. Maybe it's better that way. Maybe I should just stay here, no one knows about this place. No one but me. I guess it helps me and Barney started going by moms old last name. 

What the fuck am I even doing with my life? Pop was right, Trickshot was right, everyone was right. I'm not going to be worth anything to anyone. What the fuck am I doing?

I think I'm out.

\- Clint


	19. Chapter 19

Three little boys ducked against the old rotting wood fence surrounding McOliver Farm

"It's haunted, I TOLD you this Harry, Pa says it's a place of tragedy."

Harry rolled his eyes. Still staring at the farm. 

"Leroy yer Pa says everything is haunted. Ever since he watched that show. Ghostsomethingrather"

"Would both ya shut yer cake holes, the ghost'll hear us and it'd be all yer'all's fault if we ended up dead in the drink."

Mac was the oldest out of the three boys. So they listened and stayed quiet. A slight breeze kicked an errant branch out of the tree just behind them as soon as they watched the kitchen light, candle? Turn off, blow out?

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH ITS THE MCOLIVER GHOST!!!"

Leroy screamed shooting straight up like an arrow onto his feet and heading out in a break neck run. Mac and Harry followed. 

"Leroy, you chickenshit"

Mac called after him. Harry couldn't stifle the laughter. The three boys ran all the way into town. 

"It's late. You two should get on home now before ya'll get a switchin' 

Mac McDougal scolded his friends. 

Harry smirked.  
"G'night ya'll"

Leroy looked at Mac  
"Mac ya gonna walk me home"

Mac heard Leroy but he watched as a taxi pulled in next to the Super 8 Motel. 

"Mmm not many come to town this late. Its bout 10pm. Leroy. You get on home now. Im gonna check this out. You'll be fine."

Leroy nodded. He hated walking home by himself. He knew he was a chicken shit. He had to walk past MacOliver Farm. But Mac always said he needed to grow a pair. Guess this night was as good as any to start. 

"Night Mac"

"Night Leroy"

Mac waited until Leroy had started out. He took a rolled up cigarette from behind his ear and an almost half empty book of matches. Lighting his smoke as he watched the newcomer. 

\------------------O--------------------

Phil thanked the cab driver and took his luggage from the back seat. His eyes roamed the general vicinity as he spotted a red-haired boy, one foot resting flat against the side of the brick convenience store. A hand bringing up a rolled cigarette to his lips. 

Phil nodded towards the boy as he walked into the motel office. The boy just stared. Smoking that cigarette. 

"Number 7, check out is at noon unless ya wanna stay again. Business or pleasure?"  
The female asked. She looked about the same age as Phil. 

Phil took the key. 

"Thanks. Um. Both hopefully. Who is the red-haired kid by the convenience store?"

"Oh Honey, don't worry bout him. Thats Mac McDougal. His Daddy owns that convenience store. He runs around with the other boys in town. He is actually a good kid. Just rough around the edges."

 _A lot like Clint..._  
Phil thought to himself. 

"Okay. Thank you. Goodnight"

"Goodnight Honey"

Phil loved the accents...more reminders of Clint. He got into his motel room. The town wasn't tiny. But it wasn't a sprawling metropolis either. Nothing close to New York. 

Phil settled down. Taking out his journal. He crossed his ankles. 

May 6th 2200 hours. 1998

Well, I'm here. I wonder if he is in one of these rooms? I wonder if Im going to go on a wild hunt just to pull his ass back to Manhattan. Damn kid. Here I go again. I think Im still pissed. Should I even be doing this while angry? Uhhhh I don't know. It's either this or pouting back in my apartment. I don't pout...so this it is I guess. Damn snot nosed, cocky brat. Guess I better get some rest.

Coulson Out


	20. Chapter 20

It was too God Damn late for this shit. Okay, so what if it was only seven thirty. Clint was tired and he didn't want to deal with screaming kids trying to get into the haunted house. He wouldn't hesitate to shoot an arrow next to a kids head to scare them away for good.

He could hear their screams as they retreated back down the road all because he lit a candle. Chicken shits. But it didn't mean that they wouldn't be back. Looked like he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

\-----

 Phil woke up feeling better than he had in days. Only four things on his mind. Shower, coffee, food and Clint in that order. Opting for jeans and a Henley Phil didn't want to stand out wearing a suit. Damn kid didn't deserve it at this point. Phil winced at his own resentment as he grabbed his journal, wallet and keys. He headed for the Diner just west of the Motel.

"Well. Here goes nothing."

After he ordered his food and coffee. He took out a recent photo of Clint that he took without the kid knowing and asked the waitresses.

"Oh yeah. He got food to go. Didn't say much. Musta been real quiet like Darlin'. He in trouble?"

"No. No trouble. He and I had an argument. He ran. So Im here to take him back to New York."

In between obnoxious bubble pops of the woman's gum she whistled.

"Oh shoot Honey, your a far cry from the Big Apple. Well I hope you find what your looking for. More coffee?"

Phil nodded yes. "Thank you, did you see which way he headed after leaving here?"

The woman poured the coffee. "No Honey...betchya Bill did." Still holding the coffee pot she looked back "HEY BILL YOU SEEN AN OUTTA TOWNER THAT CAME IN LAST NIGHT. BLONDE HAIR BLUE EYE-EYED?"

Phil rubbed the bridge of his nose.

\-----

Clint sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't slept well because all the damn kids and their mothers seemed to be trying to come by the farm last night talking about how it's haunted. Stupid kids. He figured he should at least go into town to eat something since he didn't really eat the day before.

All he really wanted was a nice hot plate of pancakes and sausage and to be left alone. Maybe to knock a few of the kids in the face for being loud, but who needed to know that.

As Clint walked into the diner he yawned and stretched. He froze when he saw a familiar figure, then shook his head. Surely he must've been seeing things. It may have been late in the morning but it was still to early for this shit.

Stretching again Clint started towards an empty table far from his hallucination and sat with his back to him. He put his head down on the table and tried to shake the sleepless haze from his mind.

The waitress smiled looking up as the bell over the door chimed. “Well would ya look at that. There he is right there sugar." She said tipping her head in Clint's direction.

Phil whirled around so fast he almost fell out of the booth. 

"I will take my food order at his table. Place whatever he is having on my bill please."

Phil took a deep breath and got up. He walked calmly over to Clint's table. 

"Mind if I join?"

Phil held his breath.

The waitress nodded her understanding to Phil and watched him go. Boy was this going to be some good gossip later.

Clint's body tensed, he had a good imagination but it wasn't _that_ good. This was definitely the real thing. Phil was really there.

His body tensed as his head slowly raised to look at the older man standing there. He opened his mouth to say something then closed it again before nodding. He put his head back down on the table and signed.

“How'd you find me?" He finally managed after a few quite moments. His head still down in the table.

Phil quietly took his seat. Well. At least it wasn't a no. 

"Looking you up was the easy part. It 's what SHIELD excels at. You also left your prints on my things at the apartment. I am on mandatory R&R. I was not about to sit around in my apartment for a week. So here I am. Truth be told. I'm breaking orders. You know. Not going by the book for a change."

Phil calmly spoke as he arranged his silverware as he placed his napkin in his lap. He spotted his steak and eggs on the serving bar for the waitress a moment ago.

Clint had to try not to flinch. He knew a stab when he heard one, hell it shouldn't have even hurt, but it did. Clearing his throat he shrugged a shoulder.

“So maybe I was a little sloppy. But there are a shit ton of places I go. How'd you know to come here?" Clint asked finally looking up. He looked like he hadn't slept in days though it had only been a night.

“And why would you want to go against orders? Isn't your job everything to you? Don't get fired over something stupid like me." He muttered as the waitress came with Phil's food. He decided against breakfast because now he wasn't sure that he could keep it down.

Phil continued looking at his food. Placing some tabasco sauce on his eggs and hash browns. 

"Usually puppies run to the one place they know best when they are scared. Thats home. The only things that you did stupid was running before giving someone who isn't used to this shit a second chance. You made some good points. Secondly you keep depreciating yourself. That may earn you another gunshot."

Phil paused to take a bite of his steak. Chewing slowly h finally swallowed. Taking a drink of his coffee he continued. 

"I am on mandatory R&R because I passed out at SHIELD. So if anyone asks. I am on vacation in Iowa. Plausible or not. It will have to fly. Speaking if flying I hope your packed. We are going back to New York tomorrow. Your running away is bullshit. You also need to eat something. So don't you dare sit there and scold me about eating right. That food was amazing by the way. The stew you cooked for me and then snuck out. It would have tasted better if you were there."

Phil took another bite. This time relishing his eggs and hash browns. He felt his chest tighten. His food was almost to hard to swallow due to the lump in his throat. He never want to punch and kiss someone all at once so badly in his life. Just what did he have to do for this kid? Apparently everything necessary.

“Did you just compare me to a puppy?" Clint looked confused. He didn't understand wanted with him. Hadn't Phil rejected him back in New York?

Scrubbing a hand through his hair he pulled a knee up to his chest and just stared at Phil. “You can't just shoot someone for believing what they've been told their entire life." He muttered, not really having any smart ass comment to make.

Worry crossed his face hearing that Phil had been sick. “What happened? You're okay now right?" He asked concerned, forcing himself to stay on his side of the table and not feel the older mans forehead like a worrying mother. Even though he felt rejected he also felt that Phil was damn near all he had. He didn't want the man hurting or sick. That look of confusion crossed Clint's face again and one of his brows raised. “What if I don't want to go back to New York tomorrow Philip?" His voice was more defensive then he had meant for it to be.

He was planning on packing up the pictures from the farm and there was no way they'd all fit in his little duffle bag. And he made a rule a long time ago not to steal from anyone in town and he couldn't afford another suitcase. He also planned on seeing his mom a few more times before he left. There wasn't enough time to do all of that before tomorrow. 

Clint completely ignored the conversion of food altogether.

Phil finally looked at Clint. 

"You compared yourself to a puppy awhile back and then proceeded to tell me that you could cook and clean, that your not entirely useless and yes you can shoot someone for believing what they have been told their entire. Because your not stupid. Asinine and stubborn yes, stupid no."

Phil took a deep breath. 

"I don't know exactly why I passed out. Maybe worry, maybe because for all my damn knowledge. I couldn't keep you with me. Something ridiculous came out of my mouth and poof you were gone out of my life as quickly as you entered it. Which was by no means fucking fair. Which Come to think if it. May be the only reason I will actually shoot you... In the leg...so can't run. If you need a few more days. I can wait. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Phil's voice was still calm. Just because it cracked here and there a little doesn't mean his voice wasn't calm. 

"Jesus. Clint. Do I have to beg here? I didn't come here for my health. I came to bring you back. I have time off. 7 days exactly, so take your time if you need to, but I'm not going back without you."

Phil said it just fine, even if he felt a little faint. He felt stunned in place. Afraid to move in case Clint disappeared. Again.

Clint just stared for a moment. “I...almost forgot about that. And I do cook and clean. I promise I'm not useless Philip..." He stopped to clear his throat to keep his voice from cracking. “I know I'm a handful. I know that I talk too much, but I can be quite too." He had to stop himself from telling the older man that gee could be a 'good boy'. 

He felt so small and not in control of anything anymore. “I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance.I wanted to be out of your hair so I would bother you anymore...I guess it all goes back to a fucked up childhood." Clint's eyes were back on the table as he took in a slow deep breath. He wasn't going to cry, not in public. “If you want to shoot me you can. It's okay." His voice was so small he almost didn't recognize it as his own.

Clint looked up surprised to hear that Phil would wait for him. What did he do to deserve that sort of kindness? “I'll be quick..just need to get a few things and say bye to my ma. I'll go back with you."

Phil took in another deep breath himself. Finding it increasingly difficult to eat. He cleared his throat. 

"I'm at The Super 8 Motel. Room 7. When your ready okay? I actually think I need to go back and lie down. I also do not wish to infringe on your personal space unless you want me there. I can understand if its too personal. I will take a raincheck on shooting you."

Phil's breathing felt labored to him. Jesus maybe he really did need to rest. He felt suddenly cold. He didn't realize he was perspiring. 

"I uhhh. I don't feel so well..."

“Hey take it easy.." Clint said softly moving to Phil's side. “Let me help you, please. You don't look so good." His voice was hushed in a whisper as he looked over Phil and took the napkin from his lap and dabbed it across the other mans forehead.

He started shaking his head. “Don't worry about my space right now okay. Let's just get you better." Clint dug into his wallet and put the last of his cash on the table before helping Phil up. 

“Don't argue with me okay. We'll go to your motel because it's closer then I'll do what I have to do later. It'll be okay." He whispered starting to walk them to the door.

"O..okay...no hospitals. SHIELD will be notified. Then they will have me in goddamn Medical for months.." 

Phil gasped a bit for air. He leaned into Clint. It felt right...not mention. He really did not have a choice. 

"Your...warm"

Phil commented. Partially out of breath. He was spooked. What the hell was going on with him?.

Clint wrapped an arm around Phil's waist to take on most of his weight. He nodded to confirm he heard what the other man had said, but he was just focusing on getting Phil back to his motel room. A small smirk coming to his lips at the warm comment. 

“Don't mention it. Or mention it all you like. Everything will be okay even if I have to keep you warm for a while." Clint breathed as he held Phil tighter.

He didn't like how weak he felt. This couldn't be good. 

\----

He finally got Phil back to his room and carefully sat him on the bed leaning back against the pillows. Quickly he went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, when he can't back he sat next to Phil and started dabbing the towel against his forehead.

He sighed softly, and in the dim light of the motel room Clint looked so much older than he truly was. Age lines starting to form around the corners of his mouth and the slightest of lines in his forehead. The signs of a boy who really did grow up too fast.

“It's okay Phil, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." He whispered as he continued to wipe the cool towel over Phil's skin.

"Mmm. My...my journal. Leather-bound. Shit. Diner, Clint..."

Phil rambled. Phil wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but Clint was here. He wasn't sure if the other man grabbed his journal or not. Phil felt lost and ridiculous. He came here to save Clint. Apparently Clint was saving him...damn kid. His voice soothed him. His nearness calmed him, lulled him. Phil hated he was sick. Was he allergic to awkwardness?, emotion? His eyes were fighting him. He needed to stay awake. Needed to make sure Clint was right there...two bedroom apartment. Who was he kidding. Phil never did a drug a day in his life. Here he was. Addicted. Dammit all to hell.

Clint softly hushed the mumbling man. “I'll go get it. S'okay, just relax."

He would get the journal when Phil started to look a little better. “No one will take it, I promise. If anything the waitress put it behind the counter." Clint soothed. 

He ran his fingers through the older mans hair and smiled softly. “You're going to be okay." Clint would make sure of it.

Phil had no idea what was happening to him. His physical and other tests came back okay. He was in peak physical condition. Physical being the keyword. 

Was this it? Was he snapping? Has his brain finally had enough? He could feel the tears. Why were there tears? 

"Mmm, Clint. Please. Get it. I...I will be fine." 

Phil managed. He felt small right now. Downright geriatric truth be told.

Clint bit his lip he really didn't want to leave Phil, but he could see that Phil really wanted his journal. He didn't blame the guy. He'd be a mess if someone had gotten ahold of his own journal. Standing slowly he placed the towel across Phil's forehead. 

“You just rest, I'll be right back." He said softly running his fingers through Phil's hair. 

With that Clint slipped out of the motel room and all but sprinted back to the diner. It wasn't hard to find Phil's journal because it was in the hands of the waitress that was serving them. Unfortunately it was opened and she was reading it like it was the latest romance novel to hit the shelves. 

Clint walked up to the woman and snatched the journal from her closing it and tying it back up. “How dare you invade someone's privacy like that? Get a life! Jesus fuck." Clint growled out over his shoulder as he walked out.

He jogged back to the motel room just to get back to Phil as soon as possible. Letting himself in he sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Here you go." He said as he placed it next to Phil.

Phil looked at it. He usually ties a fancy knot plus three extra. It wasn't tied right. His brows furrowed. 

"Who was reading it?"

Phil asked. His breathing was less labored now. More even, but still tired sounding. 

"I have some serious personal shit in here. Clint. Who read it?"

Phil's voice sounding more demanding. Just on this side of panic. Phil hated it.

Clint raised his hands in a defensive manner. “It wasn't me. When I got there the waitress was reading it. All I did was take it from her and close it." He explained hurriedly.

He knew that Phil wouldn't be happy with his response, but he wasn't going to lie. “Hey, it'll be okay." He tried to sooth.

He sat next to Phil and lightly rested a hand on his shoulder. “You should try to take a few deep breaths."

Phil nodded at Clint. There was belief in Phil's eyes. Normally he could let shit slide. That waitress was getting interrogated once he felt. That was a serious breach of privacy. 

"Right..thank you"

Phil sounded genuine. 

"Someone is loosing her job as soon as I feel better."

The poor waitress...around Clint he was making a speedy recovery.

Clint just nodded his agreement. 

“You need to get some rest. You can get her fired after we've left town, okay?" He sighed moving his hand from Phil's shoulder and going to sit in the chair across the room trying to give the other man his space. 

Clint wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Phil and just find out what it felt like to be held in his arms, but he didn't want to push his luck. He was tired and he didn't care that it was barely the afternoon now.

"Mmm right. Why are you over there?... Less warm. "

Phil complained groggily. He's been doing a lot of that lately. Complaining, whining...he hates it

Clint looked up at Phil biting his lip. He hadn't expected that at all. 

“I, uh..I wasn't sure if you wanted me close.." He mumbled. 

Sheepishly he got up and crawled into bed with Phil, laying over the top of the blankets. His head resting on the older mans chest.

"Thank you. So. We leave when?"

Phil asked Clint groggily. Wishing he never had to work in SHIELD... Ever. He placed his journal on the nightstand with his left hand and wrapped his right arm around Clint. 

"If I have to come find you again. I'm shooting you in both feet."

With a sigh Clint shrugged. 

“We can leave tomorrow after I gather my things and say bye to ma. Now get some rest, we'll go to a different place for diner."

He didn't respond to Phil's last comment. He had no intentions of making Phil come and look for him again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry update has taken forever and it is a short one. But the plot thickens!

Phil nodded weakly. Was it the food? An onset of the flu? Phil couldn't tell. He didn't know when he drifted off. On arm lazed over the young male's back. The room was pitch black as near as he could tell. But the lines, the lines and shift of everything within the room, Phil could see perfectly. He looked to the window, the curtains were shut. No soft moonlight. The night was quiet save one rebellious drip in the bathroom. It wasn't out of the ordinary, but the way he heard it was. That drip was suddenly the only thing his hearing wanted to zero in on. Suddenly a craving for salt crashed into him so hard he sat up fully coughing, coughing like he was gasping for air. 

"Clint!" 

Phil choked out. Trembling and afraid. His vision blurred hard as he grasped the Archer's flesh upon his shoulder. 

\-------------------------------------

Fury shut down the file on his private pc as Agent Hill entered his office with ease. "Damn, people are gonna think your the Director not me." Nick put on his best poker face, Maria was a keen Markswoman on bullshit. Maria couldn't know. It was for her protection. He worried about Phil, but the day would come sooner or later. Protocols were in place.


End file.
